


City Girls and City Lights

by Cinaed



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-27
Updated: 2006-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy has always been a city girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	City Girls and City Lights

Wendy doesn’t know why she’s surprised when she finds Catherine Willows smoking on the roof. After all, Catherine isn’t an unobservant woman (no CSI could be and keep their job), and so she was bound to notice that people nightly tromp up to the rooftop for fresh air or for a smoke. 

Still, the fact remains that Wendy _is_ surprised, and hesitates halfway through the door, blinking at the older woman and only stepping out onto the rooftop at Catherine’s slight smile and urge to ‘come and enjoy the view.’ 

She treads cautiously, walking almost gingerly towards Catherine, and wishes she had brought her cigarettes along. The _one_ time she comes up here for fresh air is when Catherine is there, of course. It is just her luck -- that is to say, her lack thereof. 

Wendy manages a smile and a nod, and then asks, “I take it that’s why you’re up here?” even though Catherine has just taken another drag of her cigarette. 

Catherine offers up one of her sly, half-smiles, and says, “In a way. Lindsey and I are going camping this weekend, and I was getting a last look at the city before I head off into the wilderness.” 

“Camping?” 

Her tone must have conveyed her disgust, because Catherine looks amused and asks with an elegantly raised eyebrow, “Not a big fan of nature?” 

Wendy has been hovering uncertainly for a moment, but now she finally summons enough courage to stand inches away from the other woman, hands resting lightly on the railing. “Not really,” she admits with a slight smile. “I was born and raised a city girl.” 

Even as Catherine laughs, Wendy remembers how, when she had been five or so, her uncle had taken her and her cousins to a national forest for the weekend -- she forgets which one, even though her mother still loves to tell the story today. She had crawled out of the tent sometime during that night and stared, wide-eyed, demanding to know where the _light_ had gone. This moonlight was dull and weak compared to the bright lights of San Francisco, she had announced, albeit in more childish sentences, not to mention an unnatural silver color. Wendy had hated that place, with its muted, oddly colored lights, and sulked until they had driven home that Sunday. 

“I like nature,” Catherine comments after a moment, and Wendy blinks, startled out of the memory. The blonde takes a long drag of her cigarette, and adds, “It’s quiet and peaceful, and it gives Lindsey and me some private time.”

“That does sound nice,” Wendy says quietly, even if there is a sudden bitter taste on her tongue at the second mention of Lindsey. It isn’t that she _dislikes_ the teenager -- she has met her only a few times, and they have gotten along fine -- but Lindsey stands for every reason why Wendy’s silly crush on Catherine Willows is exactly that, silly. The woman was as _straight_ as an arrow. 

Catherine’s free hand comes to rest lightly on the railing, and Wendy studies the few inches that separate their hands. It was moments like this, these spaces in between, that killed her, really, where Catherine was close enough to touch, and the longing rose up in Wendy enough to choke her breath from her. She tightens her grip on the railing, takes a breath, steadying herself, and adds, “Does Lindsey like camping?” 

Catherine snorts, something like fond exasperation in the sound, and shakes her head to acknowledge that Lindsey is as much a city girl as Wendy. “She doesn’t like the sky there. Says it’s--” 

“Dim and gloomy?” Wendy says before she can help herself, and flushes a little as Catherine raises both of her eyebrows. She stares down at her hands, and notices vaguely that her knuckles are white. “I’ve always preferred the city lights too.” 

“City girls,” Catherine says, and for a moment -- just a single moment that loosens the wistful lump in her throat -- Wendy pretends that the affection in the other woman’s voice is for her. She cradles that moment, and then admits to herself that the fondness is for Lindsey and Lindsey alone. 

She looks up in time to see Catherine drop the used-up cigarette to the ground and grind it under a heel in a single, expert movement. 

“Yeah,” Wendy says quietly, not sure what else to say, because the lump in her throat is back with a vengeance. 

There is silence for a long moment before Catherine gives a little shrug and says, “Well, I think Hodges should be done with trace,” and Wendy just nods, forcing out a, “If I don’t see you, have a good camping trip.” 

Catherine makes a noise that is somewhere between a snort and a laugh, and says, “Here’s hoping.” 

Wendy listens to the sharp, precise sounds of Catherine’s three-inch heels on the concrete, and doesn’t look back as the door to the roof shuts with a strident bang. She goes back to studying the whiteness of her knuckles and remembering the other woman’s long, slender fingers, so close to hers on the railing that if Wendy had thrown away her inhibitions and common sense and moved her own hand just a few _inches_…. 

She sighs after a moment, and forces her death-grip on the railing to loosen. This is foolish, and she should retreat back into the lab, where the harsh lights lessened everyone, even Catherine’s, beauty and helped Wendy ignore her silly crush. She lingers for another moment though, taking in deep, even breaths and feeling the lump in her throat start to diminish. 

“Idiot,” she mutters to herself, and there is no fond exasperation in her voice for her own stupidity, just a weary sort of acceptance, and she takes a faltering step away from the railing and towards the door, lingering for one final moment. 

Wendy is a city girl, through and through, but looking out at the brightly lit skyline of Las Vegas, she cannot help but wonder how soft and lovely Catherine’s features would seem in the pale moonlight. 

She sighs, and retreats from the rooftop, and winces at the too-bright lights of the lab.


End file.
